


Late Night Devil (Put Your Hands On Me)

by LostandLonelyBirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK)



Series: trouble from your lips (whisper my name) [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Amnesia, Background Character Death, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Bruises, Dark Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jason Todd's eyes shift with his moods, Jason is a bottom, Kinda, M/M, Marking, Minor Character Death, Murder, Night of the Owls, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Dick Grayson, Sensory Deprivation, Slash, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and so do Dick's, background murder, but good???, dick is a top, fight me, i don't make the rules, idk - Freeform, inspired by Teeth by 5SOS, it's weird - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 10:50:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUNNFROMTHEAK/pseuds/LostandLonelyBirds
Summary: He clutches at his head, letting out what sounds dangerously close to a whimper.Red Hood’s hand grips his bicep fiercely, pulling Talon into his embrace.“The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die,” he gasps, spilling the words out as a warning, a threat.“I’m sure they have.”





	Late Night Devil (Put Your Hands On Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dbakeiro](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dbakeiro).

> This is for one of my most supportive commenters, who has quite literally commented on every story I've ever posted! dbakeiro, I hope you love this!!!!
> 
> Little note before you read:
> 
> I have a headcanon that Talon's brainwashing included some sort of auditory manipulation where he is unable to mentally register or 'hear' certain names or words. I showed this in my other Talon story, so there's dashed lines that indicate a word or name has been said that he can't hear or read (the number of dashes indicate the letters, so ---- is Dick).  
I'm not sure exactly how'd they achieve this, but I'm sure they'd be able to somehow (perhaps making it so Dick is afraid to hear or see the word, so he senses it but doesn't process it consciously). This extends to his perception of words associated with his identity, and those around him. If someone were to call him Grayson, he'd interpret it as "Gray Son" due to the Court's condition and his inability to recall his past identity. Fun right?
> 
> So that's why there's dashes!
> 
> Hope ya guys enjoy!!!!

His breaths come in ragged bursts, spilling out of his chest in a jumbled, uncoordinated mess.

“_Breathe_, ---- “

The Red Hood says, clutching Talon’s arm with his free hand.

Talon pulls a knife out and slashes at the anti-hero, grazing his cheek and drawing blood.

The Red Hood leaps back a bit as he registers the sting, allowing Talon room to cradle his arms around his legs as he shakes.

“----?”

He closes his eyes, shutting out the words he can’t see, can’t hear.

Red Hood’s voice is cautious, gentle.

He approaches Talon like he’s a wild animal, ignoring Talon’s warning hiss in favor of touching him.

_Why is he touching Talon?_

“Gray Son, you need to breathe. Please, for me.”

Images flash behind his eyes, of Bats and birds soaring over the night sky…

_(a teasing: “Catch me Hood.” whispered on a rooftop, the rough feel of brick walls under his fingertips as he fell apart under the other’s ministrations)_

Of two lone figures, dancing in the moonlight…

(_a begging: “If you don’t want this, don’t want **me**, you have to say so now Goldie. I can’t stop myself, not after this.” earnest green eyes clouded with toxicity and lust, soft touches and softer words. broken promises kissed into bare expanses of scarred skin, promises neither of them have any intention of keeping_)

Of circus tents and lights, the opening music becoming a haunted lullaby as Talon slaughtered the man called Haly on the Court’s behalf…

(_a screaming: “Please, ----, don’t do this! I didn’t want to give you over, my boy! I had no choice! They would have killed me!” kind old eyes hardening as the blade dug in, deep like the betrayal he’d felt, the **anger**, such a contrast to the numbness of the Court’s making_)

He clutches at his head, letting out what sounds dangerously close to a whimper.

Red Hood’s hand grips his bicep fiercely, pulling Talon into his embrace.

“_The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die_,” he gasps, spilling the words out as a warning, a threat.

“I’m sure they have.”

Red Hood says flippantly, ignoring the warning to bring Talon in closer, enveloping the assassin in warmth.

Talon scratches the man with his claw, drawing blood, but he is ignored.

Red Hood rubs small circles on his back, patterns burning through the Talon’s leather costume as Talon lays pliant in his firm embrace…

(_claws still puncturing the other man’s skin, leaking red onto Talon just the way he liked_).

He feels the warmth of flesh beneath the Red Hood’s thin shirt, calling out to him like a summon.

Like _home_.

(_strong arms holding him as he fell apart, rushed kisses tasting like day old Thai food from his fridge, adoration_)

The anti-hero’s neck is vulnerable to Talon, the seductive sound of blood rushing beneath the skin clear to assassin’s enhanced ears (_singing of temptation and satisfaction and reward_) as his head presses into the crook of his target’s neck.

He could slip a knife out and slash Red Hood’s throat, accomplish his kill and prevent the Court from discovering his _episodes_ before the man would have time to react.

It would be _easy_…

_Too _easy.

Something in him twisted at the thought of killing Red Hood in such a way, even on the Court’s orders.

“Gray Son?”

He keeps his head down, eyes squeezed shut. Everything feels _familiar_, the warmth enveloping his lean form, the scent of blood and gunpowder curling pleasantly around him, the sight of green eyes darkening with _something_….

(_lips hot under his touch, bodies moving in perfect synchrony, green eyes squinting as the warmth squirmed beneath him, soft moans and grunts filling the quiet of his apartment_)

He lets out a sound halfway between a hiss and a whine, head aching again.

Bare fingers curl under his chin, lifting his face upwards.

His eyes flutter open as the anti-hero takes his helmet off.

_Jason_.

“Jay-son?”

He tries, the name rolling sharply off his tongue.

Red Hood flinches, eyes green and bright.

“Do you remember me?”

He asks, face bare and open and _hopeful…_

(_something Talon’s never felt, chained to his masters and beaten and frozen, obedient and pliant and **trapped**, unable to close his eyes even when his master’s hands wandered_)

“No.”

The other man sighs, disappointed.

“Do you remember who you are?”

Talon frowns, pulling away from Red Hood (‘_Hood,’ something in him says, ‘Jaybird. **My **Jaybird.’_).

It feels like _possessiveness_, like _desire_.

“I am Talon, and the Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.”

His statement, one that had brought many to their knees in fear (_easy killings, a simple clean line on their throat unless he felt creative and wanted to drag it along, unless the Court wanted the target to **suffer**_) is met with a mere eye roll.

“You sound like a broken fuckin’ record. If you were gonna kill me, you would’ve done it by now. Your record doesn’t show you chatting up your targets.”

It comes out as a drawl, words leaving Jason’s lips slowly. Talon watches his lips move, distracted by the heat pooling in his stomach.

_Mine_.

The word is as confusing as the images, of a kind man like the one before him and a not-quite-him.

“Maybe you missed something,” Talon says, getting to his feet. “Maybe I like to _play _with the mouse before giving it to the big bad Owl.”

Jason bares his teeth at him, sweeping Talon’s legs out and pinning him to the concrete floor in one fluid move.

“I ain’t a goddamn _mouse_, I may have been a street rat but I’m no _toy_.”

There’s a toxicity clouding Red Hood’s eyes, acid leaking in and brightening the cornea (_but darkening the pupils_).

Talon feels a pull, magnetic, and looks at Jason’s lips again.

He’s cold, colder than he’s felt since leaving his icy prison.

_Mine._

He pulls on Jason’s neck, crashing his mouth against Jason’s, feeling the coppery taste of blood invade his mouth as he bites down _hard _on Jason’s lip.

Talon flips their positions, pinning the anti-hero beneath his smaller form, eyes glinting.

_Mine._

Jason lets out a sound half-way between pained and aroused, throat exposed as he leans his head back.

Talon covers Jason in his mark, bites and blood and darkening bruises covering his neck in a way that appeases something in Talon.

_Mine, _he thinks, sucking down hard enough for Jason to groan.

_Mine, _he thinks, breaking the thin layer of skin on his pale neck.

_Mine, _he thinks, tongue invading Jason’s mouth without request, lips moving in perfect synchrony.

Jason’s dazed and hardening beneath him as Talon gets up again, satisfied.

“Talon?”

He turns back towards Jason, noticing that his eyes have dimmed considerably.

“I though you were going to kill me.”

“I was.”

Jason’s eyes bore into him, and Talon wonders what he sees.

“What changed?”

Talon looks at Jason’s kiss-swollen lips, as bloodied and marked as his neck.

“You’re _mine_,” he says simply. “The Court can’t have you.”

It isn’t until later he sees the blue hue draining from the unnatural gold of his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
